End Redemption
by Nazran
Summary: Redemption. For one such as Bellatrix Lestrange it is not wanted, not considered, for one so immersed into madness and the Dark Arts. Yet in the darkness of a prison, she finds her savior, her atonement and finally perhaps a peace to release her from the bindings of servitude. The one to gift her with such a boon? No one that she would ever suspect―Potter. Oneshot. M to be safe.


_**Disclaimer:**_ _All publicly recognizable characters, locations, concepts and themes remain the express property of their respective owners, including but not limited to JKR. _

_**A/N:**__ Seeing as I just updated Blood Lines (my HarryxTonks story) I figured I should put this little oneshot I penned up out there as well. This originally began as a concept for how to handle Bellatrix in Blood Lines but I decided against it since it didn't fit with my Harry, so it grew into what you are about to read. Leave a review, if you hate it or not, I always enjoy seeing what others have to say._

_Without further ado . . ._

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_**End Redemption**_

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The prone figure shifted slightly, huddling in upon itself and shivering violently.

"Hmm sorry about that. I suppose it is a mite chilly in here." A man spoke in the gloomy torch light, conjuring a blanket of thick material with a twitch of his wand and draping it over the figure. Long slim figures brushed against the bare shoulder of the figure and it winced, edging away as much as it could into the corner, its back to the man. He sighed, running a hand through his long black hair, flipping it even more out of order than it had been.

Water dripped in the following silence, echoing in the low narrow corridors of the underground complex. The man shifted, leaning against grubby iron bars, displaying an utter lack of concern for the filth and rust that rubbed onto his fine woolen suit and robes. Piercing emerald eyes cut through the flickering orange light, boring into the figure that lay in the corner before him. Shallow dry breath rustled between pale ghostly lips.

Grime coated the waist length hair of the figure. Pale skin shone with sweat, mud and an utter lack of health, covered so poorly as it was by the long dress-like robes that had been reduced to tatters. Two hairless white legs slipped from their grip on the damp floor and shot out, slick against the darkness, the grime. Still the man waited. The head turned; revealing a thin set of lips, curved in a decidedly feminine way, high cheekbones, long eyelashes gritty with dust, and dull violet orbs gazing at the man with a glazed vacant look. A wraith, the ghost of proud heritage and powerful magic cloaked by the body of the woman.

"Better eh? Good, I wouldn't want you to be uncomfortable you know. It's over, clearly you have given up. After all I killed your Master, the minions you once commanded have been arrested or killed. You alone are the last of the regime lead by Tom Riddle." The woman flinched at the name. "It's over Bellatrix." The man rubbed his jaw, brushing the facial hair clinging there; he would need to shave before lunch, he liked his circle beard kept tight to his skin.

The woman wheezed. Perhaps she had tried to speak, perhaps not. Bellatrix Lestrange was a broken prisoner of her worst enemy. Her wand was long taken from her and locked away. She had been subdued and forced into the hovel with the utmost efficiency. She wasn't even aware if anyone knew that the man―the boy―had taken her from her Master.

"The war is over and you have lost." Harry Potter glanced casually at his bare left wrist, "Well that only took, let's see . . .oh about forty years, give or take a decade or so. Granted I'm only twenty; ah but I guess you wouldn't know about my little escapade now would you? No, no few do―in fact I do believe you'd be the first I've truly admitted it too. No matter, we beat Him, I beat Him, finally after so long." Harry stood upright beginning to slowly pace with a measured step back and forth.

"Do you know what sort of relief that is? To vanquish the monster that has haunted you for decades. I failed the first time . . .yes . . . failed . . . So completely. So utterly. Really it was laudable, the amount of effort I put into a pointless venture, the lives that sacrificed themselves for me, for the 'Chosen One'.

Ron and Hermione, that first summer they died, so soon after Dumbledore himself had died at the hands of Severus―something I thought I never would forgive him for. But no, you did them you know. Hermione first, you made Ron and I listen and watch as you tortured her, stripped her clothing and cut her. You let your Death Eater friends take their turns raping her, tearing her apart and stealing what dignity she had left. And when she lay bleeding, sobbing on the floor before you, carved with the word 'MUDBLOOD' wherever you could fit, you just laughed that maniacal cackle of yours and forced her to scream she was a 'filthy Mudblood whore'. I hated your for that, to rob my best friend of her control, of her beauty and freedom, to ruin so much potential as Hermione Granger. I was never the same.

Ron sobbed of course. He loved that girl, despite the trouble he had expressing himself. Emotional range of a teaspoon as Hermione always said," Harry's eyes hardened, crackling with rage untold, "She never said those words again." Harry stalked toward Bellatrix, "The last words I heard from my Hermione were 'I'm a whore!' and you cut her throat! Like an animal to the slaughter!" Harry grabbed a fist full of the woman's hair yanking her upward, pinning her to the wall behind her, he leaned in close. "Ron took his own life after that, broke the body bind you had on him and charged you screaming. The knife that took the love of his life plunged by, his own hand, into his chest." Harry whispered now, staring deep into the eyes of the murderous woman, "That was the last I saw of them!" He threw her with all his might to the ground, her head cracking against the stone.

The young man spun on his heel and walked away, nostrils flared, "I went another forty years after that, surviving but not living; hunting the mad legacy of Dumbledore, and of your Master." He went to Bellatrix, crouching beside her and righting the woman, his finger tips stroked the underside of her jaw, "I apologize for that, unresolved anger issues it seems." His finger held her chin delicately, with a care reserved for the most fragile of treasures, "I lost so many more." Her chin dropped from his hand and he turned away.

"Remus. Fred. George. Molly. Ginny. Arthur. Minerva. Filius. Sinistra. Colin. Cho. Katie. Alicia. Fleur. Bill. Firenze. Bane. Gabrielle. Luna. Neville. Aberforth. Percy. Hagrid. Stripjaw. Ragnok. Nymphadora . . .All taken by that madman of a wizard you called the Dark Lord so lovingly. Yet here I stand before you." Harry smiled now, a genuine joyous smile, "Sirius has just handed me the title of Lord Black, he's off to Canada with his new wife Roxane next week to enjoy life. Remus is head of the Werewolf Liaison. Albus has retired and is going to spend time with Aberforth. Ginny is engaged to Dean, Ron and Hermione are trying once more to date. Fred and George have made their first hundred thousand galleons. Cedric is a superstar Quidditch player. Luna and Neville are finally trying to date. Percy has reconciled with the rest of the Weasley Clan. Severus has gotten over his grudge and we have several projects together. And to top it all off? In, oh an hour or so, I am getting married to the girl of my dreams and soon to start a happy life together.

It's all possible because of your Master. He tried too hard, to become immortal; I became a Horcrux. When he cursed me that final time, forty one years from now it reacted in a way completely beyond expectation. I, who had lost all hope, found myself in my eleven year old body, fighting for control with the abused, mentally scarred young version of myself. My conscious had jumped through space, time! Because of magic, oh how I love it! It was my second chance, don't know how or why but where I had been no longer existed and I had the ability to change the world. No more Voldemort." Harry laughed, turning his palms upward and reveling in his exultation.

"You're the first I've told this to. Maybe because you're the only one who might understand what it's like to want a second chance. Bella . . . Yes, I know. Bella, Bella, Bella, always last, always second to Andromeda, who by the way is soon to be my mother-in-law, and to Narcissa. Dear Cissy, the spoilt child, the special one. You were the middle child, I read all about it in a journal left by the original Sirius Black, the least loved in a very rich very traditional dark family." A flick of a wand and an area of ground beside Bellatrix was sparkling clean due to a quick _scourgify_. Harry bent and fell lightly into place leaning against the wall beside his enemy. "Poor Bella. So desperate to prove herself to the world. To show she was the best of the Black family."

"Cissy surpassed you though didn't she? Marrying a rich ponce like Lucius Malfoy was the single most intelligent and idiotic thing your bint of a sister ever managed. You, of course tried to beat her, wedding yourself off to the Rodolphus Lestrange half in hopes of at least getting recognition from your mother. That wasn't all though. . . Rodolphus used you, manipulated you with gifts and affection, preying upon that insecure teenage girl within you. You fell in love, willing to do whatever it took to please that man, to be loved in return, finally by someone. Your armour of haughty disdain and indifference broken.

You loved that man. He handed you over to Tom Riddle and you loved him. Riddle broke you, Voldemort destroyed those last vestiges of the beautiful, vibrant girl that was Bella Black." Harry looked over at the woman beside him, her eyes were blank but a moisture gathered in them, nearly imperceptible. He continued, "He twisted and warped you into a totally devote follower, willing to carry out his every whim to the letter. A shame. Sirius loved you. Sirius cared about you, before Rodolphus and Tom destroyed you, Sirius saw Bella and cared for her most of all his family. You turned your back on him though, just like he thought his brother had. Regulus betrayed him, now his dear cousin. He began to hate the lot of you."

Bellatrix sniffed audibly. She was cracking. "Lucky for you I managed to get to you before he could. Or anyone really. The whole of the UK is searching feverishly for you. Only I found you, I didn't kill you on sight, I didn't torture you. I tried to treat you as best I could under the circumstances. You're only in this place because I had no else safe to stick you that wasn't six feet under. Voldemort is there now, buried in a forest, unmarked without a casket, his heart beside him. You're free from the madness Bella, your Master, that monster is dead and gone. I made sure of it."

The wanted woman sniffed again before breaking down. She sobbed, heaving massive gulps of air as tears poured from puffy eyes, her face flushed a brilliant red. Bella keeled over into Harry's shoulder, clutching at the fabric or his cloak in claw-like fingers, struggling to bury her face. Harry reached a hand over, without missing a beat, and laid it on her shoulder, "Shhhh, shhh, it's okay Bella," He stroked her hair soothingly, whispering to her in the gloom, "It's done." Slowly the sobbing subsided, the flow of tears ebbed away.

After many moments her head lifted up and she stared him through heavily lidded eyes, hair draped across her face. Harry smiled slightly at the woman, "There, there. Tom Riddle is dead, the Death Eaters are gone." She blinked at him, "I suppose I am your new master, by right of conquest―that is how the magic works, no?" Bella nodded minutely; "Very well," Harry sighed and pushed himself to his feet, offering a hand to a limp legged Bellatrix, to help her stand. She stood unsteadily before him, eyes downcast and he spoke, "Bella, I have only one command for you now, as your master . . ." His hand folded behind his back, "Come here." He beckoned to her with his right.

Bella looked at him, violet eyes reflecting the broken spirit within; she had cracked, fallen apart after years of pain and torment, that pale cold exterior illuminated from within with slim hope. Cautiously Bellatrix Lestrange stepped forward into the one armed embrace of Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived, Chosen One, Vanquisher of Lord Voldemort. He whispered into her ear with a soft kind voice, warm breath brushing against her earlobe, "Rest Bellatrix, may you find the peace that would forever elude you in this life."

Harry's left hand came round her back and, right arm securing her against him, the dagger―the very same that had, in another world, entered Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley―slipped between her ribs and pierced the heart of mass murderer, redeemed by a boy who would not die.

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_**A/N:**__ I hope that was somewhat enjoyable. Please review and check out Blood Lines if you haven't, it's a creature-Harry fic._

_This was originally to titled **Forgiveness**  
_


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